Scars

I should be grateful for the exhale,
but the colors I once saw have faded.

Grey to black and no in between, they
just slip through fingers so weary.

Dusty eyes look back at me and I
hardly recognize her anymore.

Everyone wants yellow, so bright and bubbly or maybe orange, such a cheery bedfellow…

All that I see is red like skin breaking and cracking at the seams. A slow drip… drip… drip… drip…
dripping from wrists like sinew, torn from bone wasting and withering. I wish it would hurry up already.

Some nights I go to sleep pondering. No, silently willing myself to just not wake up in the morning. Or at the very least, to not wake up with such a heavy feeling in my chest. The weight is too much to carry at times. Maybe I should have been an ant that can carry 10 or 50 times it’s own body mass, whatever obnoxious amount a quick google search deems correct.

But we aren’t talking physical weight are we? That would be so much easier.

I can cut my skin and the healing is palpable. The cells and tissue repair and reconnect, scab over and yes I’m left with a scar, but I can watch as the skin repairs itself and know with 100 percent certainty that it is healed. How do you know when you are healed emotionally? Is a person ever truly healed of mental and emotional trauma?

Is it just an ever changing, growing and evolving journey of ups and downs? I guess that’s the artistic spiritualistic way to look at it, some magical journey we are all on complete with crystals and moonbeams fashioned with hopes, dreams and meditation, so much meditation. I’m tired of walking. I’m tired of being a passenger watching shit go by day after fucking day with no end in sight.

I need to touch the pain inside, grasp it by the roots and see its scar.

***

Control

Love, this ache can only
be quenched by the
weight of your lips and
the fullness of your
flesh in mine.

My limbs strain against
the heat of your kiss.
Skilled hands trace
over skin that craves release
and you never disappoint.

Trembling, my body rises
and the ache in my belly
beckons,
begging you to
take what is yours.

Quiet moans
escape pursed lips with
each intoxicating thrust
we become one spark
ignited and ready.

All control is lost.

My fire and your water
send electric waves crashing
and receding
with such intense
abandon I’m left
breathless, but craving
more…

Damsels

Kneel in submission
or don’t.
Some wounds are
too deep, so we hold on,
clinging to pasts that
no longer serve,
except when they do.

Damsels not so distressed,
but so stressed they lean in.
Fleeting moments
passively infiltrating
thoughts, inching and etching
purposely on purpose,
twisting visions of
a white knight
laying his jacket across
puddles
of fear and insecurity.
She forgets the power
to just leap.

Red Cloaks

Restless nights like
legs kicking at the tides
that flew by our way
when we kissed
the moon in its infinite
sunder.
This back and forth boon
is stark and heady.

My hungry soul
keeps grasping at
cardboard hearts with
windows so rickety you can
taste the dust
underneath their sills.
An ocean couldn’t
begin to quench this
hunger.

Hunger that burns
like a thousand sparks
igniting the sky.
We are held
suspended in bounds
fashioned from fables
of wolves and red cloaks.

Of hunters and prey.
The innocent and the knowing
dance under circles
of stars, inky black
and waiting for
the other to strike or
to lay down.

Equal patterns
shift and push, challenging
reality, dueling creativity.
Dreaming in hues,
intoxicating
like sweat sliding down
his back, sweet and consuming.

Our bodies entwined
breathe in rhythmic
prose.
Your weight on my skin
pinned and secure,
safe beneath your fire.
Hands searching
grasp my throat
and I know
I can let go.

This hungry exchange
guided by trust, passion,

and desire

leaves me wanting
more…

open and waiting to
feel sated.

***

Fire fills my lungs

and slowly with outstretched

arms I’m sinking.

Weightless and still

sinking, there’s nothing left

to grasp or so it seems.

Their beautiful faces, such

innocent youth, would they

feel misguided and alone?

Would the pain be temporary or

does it last a millennia?

*

Sinking further my body

twitches, heart and limbs contort.

There is no coming back and there’s

no glamour in it either. This sick game

is so tired. The fighting is old.

Nothing seems to satisfy

this ache and I fear nothing will.

I wanted to be enough, but

sometimes

not breathing,

like a sirens song, tastes so lovely.

*

Still sinking, my toes touch the bottom

and dark surrounding welcomes

my gaze.

Callous feet give way

to the years spent pleasing.

We’re all part of the same

current, he said, maybe just different

waters. I see your broken parts

too, I replied.

Those eyes barely awake

and screaming…

you’ll feel a ripple cross the

horizon never quenching the fire

beneath.

***

Let Go

Vices tight like a vise-grip

stuck in someone else’s reality.

His tragic heart

bleeding yesterday’s news

spinning wheels and chaos.

An orchestra in our minds

turning somber so much

more so than the next day

or than we admit

to ourselves.

Hidden behind open doors

with un-open-ended questions

leading down hallways so dark,

so resistant to change,

that we hold onto little

pieces slipping through

dormant fists, clenched,

unwilling to just let go.

*

Let go, breathe in

and fucking let go.

That weight you carry,

it’s much too heavy.

Sigh your release.

Exhale her years of torment,

dear one,

you are released.

Accept my star-kissed glow

sweet and welcome,

like a million tiny embers

cleansing and healing

that hollow pit in your stomach.

Let it be full and take comfort

in your head upon my breast.

Kindred spirit we shall heal

anew

awakened and ready to

live love.

i think your eyes could light the entire night sky…

the way their corners tilt up and out shining bright like that summer I spent under the stars.

hands and feet entwined in a motionless dance that burns deeper than any connection held before it or after…

words get caught in little jars like lightning bugs begging to be set free. this rhythm, this beat buried in my heart has just begun to be coaxed out by your gentle touch and whiskey mouth.

i don’t ever want it you to stop.

You like me better scared?

On my knees begging for help?

I’ve already wasted so

much time stuck in that place.

Slowly and then all at once

the monsters lurking

receded.

The cement blocks suffocating

like Giles, 1693 Salem,

were lifted and

the whispers, taunting

have been expelled.

Finally, I can breathe.

Now you want me to go back?

I’ve never liked it on my knees

and I’m not shrinking for anyone.